


Of Bugs and Kittens

by whiterice_party



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, Major Character Injury, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, They are both 17, Updated weekly, eventually, i'm ignoring the really irritating dancing around each other shit done in the show, more action and romance to come, they're stupid but they're not THAT stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiterice_party/pseuds/whiterice_party
Summary: Marinette's in love with Adrien, Chat Noir's in love with Ladybug. That's how it is, and how it has to be. Thing is, though, Marinette's eyes are warm and remind Adrien of home, and Chat's jokes are what keep Ladybug running on harder days. It's confusing sometimes, certainly, but nothing our heroes can't handle -- right?This is a fic done for the request of tumblr's @dumbdraws for what basically amounts to "what if they did the love square and whole concept but less stressfully?". It will follow Chat and Ladybug as they learn to love themselves and both parts of each other, and find each other in the end. Being badasses along the way, obviously. Art by @dumbdraws, who has given permission to post.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 21
Kudos: 51





	1. Bug-brained

You wouldn’t know it, but Marinette was more of a doer than a thinker.

The hours she spent marinating in her own anxiety were thinking hours, sure, and she was clever and ingenuitive. It wasn’t that her brain wasn’t quick and agile, or that she leapt into things blindly. Fact was, though, that if faced with a decision to sit and ponder or jump into action, Marinette was a jumper.

All of this to say is that it certainly wasn’t Marinette’s intention to be directly in the path of the newest villain’s attack. It was really more that there hadn’t been much time to think when Chat was wrapped protectively around two kids and rather in the way and, well, it was extremely inconvenient but here she was regardless. Marinette’s body, currently clad in the suit of Ladybug, hit the wall of the nearest building, forcing the breath from her lungs.

“Ladybug!” cried Chat from nearby, and she lifted her hand to wave away his concerns as she stumbled back to her feet. Nothing new here. Nothing to see. Although her wrist was definitely broken, and for someone whose main powers revolved around a yo-yo, that could definitely be problematic.

“Give it up, bug-brain!” Marinette yelled, starting toward the villain at a run. Hawkmoth’s newest champion was only slightly more ridiculous than usual, dressed in a praying mantis suit with stilt-like legs and overblown, glittering eyes. She didn’t personally know the citizen in the suit but could safely make the assumption she’d most likely been bullied by Chloe, as most akumatized citizens were. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chat deposit the children safely behind a building nearby.

“Are bugs gross _now_?” shrieked Mantis, stomping out with one leg. Marinette flipped back nimbly, although the movement sent a twinge of discomfort down her injured arm. The leg, weighted and serrated near the bottom, slammed onto the pavement with an unpleasant clash of metal on metal. Mantis growled in frustration, then opened her mouth wide and unleashed a bloodcurdling scream.

“Hey!” Chat complained, holding both hands over his ears. Right. Kitty hearing.

“I’m Ladybug, why would I think bugs are gross?” Marinette yelled back. Honestly. Faintly, she could hear the buzz that she assumed signaled Mantis’ many-legged friends approaching, and that could definitely be an issue. “Can you stop stomping for two seconds and maybe we can figure this out?”

Stomp.

“My lady, I don’t think she’s going to be very cooperative,” Chat said in his usual way, more purring than speaking. Marinette did her best to roll her eyes but only managed a slightly demented twitch, as she was forced to stop halfway through and dodge another swamp. The buzzing was louder now.

“Chat!” Marinette screamed just as the horde of insects appeared directly overhead. “Watch out!”

The bugs descended upon them, and Marinette spun her yo-yo rapidly, deterring the furious swarm. “A little help!” she yelled, and her loyal Chaton was beside her in an instant, swinging his staff and looking exceedingly displeased with the situation.

“Can’t you sweet-talk them?” he asked. “They’re like your brothers and sisters, after all!”

Marinette flinched as a wasp made it through and landed a sting on her neck, where the suit didn’t protect her. “Careful what you say, Chat, this yo-yo is awfully hard to control.” Chat gave an exaggerated gasp of indignation that was cut off with an “Oof!” as one of Mantis’ stilts, forgotten in the panic of the bug attack, whacked him squarely in the side. He crouched, wheezing as he recovered, his staff gripped limply in his hands.

“My lady, I know how you hate to be rushed, but would you happen to have any solutions in mind?”

“I’m a little busy, Chaton!” She used her yo-yo regardless, the burst of light and power frightening the bugs away momentarily, and found herself in possession of a very small, very not helpful bug net. “Seriously?”

“Better get to work,” winked Chat, attempting to trip Mantis with a swing of his staff.

“Too bad this isn’t big enough to stuff your head in,” muttered Marinette. She glanced around, although it was difficult while she was frantically fending off bugs. “I’ve got a solution, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“I could never dislike a plan made by you, my -- whoa!” Chat yelped, dodging another swipe of Mantis’ leg with a masterful leap.

Marinette sincerely doubted that. “Alright, then. I need you to use your cataclysm on her leg and then jump onto the other.”

“That’s not so bad,” grinned Chat. “Cataclysm!” His clawed hands glowed with a black so dark it seemed to suck the light out of his surroundings, cloud-like in its incandescence and death-like in its nature. Marinette always rather thought it was beautiful. He pounced, swiping with his claws, and one of the legs sizzled, reduced to a stump. Mantis wavered but managed to keep balance on the other leg -- until, that is, Chat’s weight drove her to the side as he clung to the remaining stilt. Chat yelled as she collapsed on top of him, but Marinette had her eyes on the prize: the dragonfly-shaped pendant worn around Mantis’ neck. Mantis screeched threateningly as she approached, and the bugs swarmed her, stinging her until she was dizzy, but she persisted until finally she was close enough to slam the net down on Mantis’ head. Of course, it wasn’t big enough, and got stuck high up on her forehead, but Mantis shrieked and began to claw at it, desperate to remove it. Marinette took the opportunity to swiftly grab the pendant and smash it underfoot.

“Bye bye, little butterfly,” she said, and, just as it ever was, everything was back to normal -- everything, that is, except herself and Chat. They got to keep their bruises, it seemed.

“Ow,” complained Chat, rubbing his backside where it had collided with the ground. “Did you know she was gonna fall on me? Is that why you said I wouldn’t like the plan? I feel betrayed, my lady!”

“Hush, Chat,” Marinette replied blankly. She was tired and not in the mood. She was covered in all manners of bites and stings and she was sore and Chat, Chat never got too tired to be charismatic and playful and mischievous. Maybe it was fine most of the time because she liked who she was, knew who she was, as Ladybug, but at times like these, she wondered again why she had been picked to partner with Chat.

She was supposed to be the lucky one, right? And yet.

“Are you okay?” Chat asked, sounding slightly nervous and uncharacteristically serious, and Marinette closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

“Just fine, Chaton,” she said, giving him a smile. “I just don’t like Mantis giving bugs a bad name, that’s all.”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman who had become Mantis wailed in the background.

“I’d better talk to her,” Chat said, a little awkwardly. He swatted a stray mosquito away from his suit. “Do you…” He paused, and Marinette could see it in his eyes, the wondering, the wanting. “Do you need anything?”

“No. Thanks, Chat,” she replied tiredly. Her injured wrist sent a jolt of nerve pain up to her elbow as if reminding her of its presence. “You got this handled?”

Chat gave her a goofy salute, clearly reassured. “You can count on me, my lady.”

“See you around, then.”

Back at home, applying ointment to her various insults and taping up her wrist, Marinette took a moment to breathe. Why did Hawkmoth seem to akumatize people exclusively on days when she had big projects due? Frustrated, she yanked out a piece of paper and started sketching and hoped that she’d be done in time. It wasn’t smart, doing the superhero gig, the school thing, and designing for contests and the like on top of that, all the while spending at least an hour or so a day stewing about various things. But, well. She was a jumper.


	2. The Investigation

Adrien was having a puzzling time.

Largely this was accountable to his math homework, which was slightly more complex than usual today. There was another element, however, and its name was Marinette.

He couldn't fault her for being chronically late to class and generally sleepy -- he was, after all, much the same due to his late night Chat Noir-ing. In fact, there were a lot of things about Marinette that reminded him of his own insane schedule. What had him intrigued and confused today, rather, was her apparent constant propensity for injury. In between classes, he had glanced back at her, laughing about something amusing she'd said, and noticed her wrist was taped heavily.

It wasn't like he didn't have a plausible explanation for the injury. She was extremely clumsy, at least from what he'd seen; half the time, when he said hello, she dropped everything she was holding for seemingly no reason. He'd seen her trip over her own feet too many times to count, usually with a high-pitched and somewhat endearing shriek. Still, last week she'd been limping, and the wrist injury now, well. She'd have to be even clumsier than he'd thought to get such severe injuries so frequently, especially since each time she'd tripped around him, she'd popped up so fast he'd doubted his own eyes.

It didn't help that he was still worrying over his lady, either. Up against Mantis, he'd definitely seen her take a hard landing, and he'd caught a few half-hidden winces too. It wasn't unusual for her to be injured, although usually less severely than him due to her seemingly endless grace and dexterity, and it wasn't unusual for her to blow off his offers to help either. Not that he blamed her. Even if he wanted to. He just hoped she hadn't gotten hurt too seriously, and that she was recovering.

He decided to check on Marinette after school. She was his friend, after all, a thought that still sent warm tingles up his spine, even after all this time. She and Alya were just heading down the school's front steps, chatting animatedly. He huffed as he hurried to catch up, ignoring the twinge in his side where he'd bruised some ribs yesterday.

"Marinette!"

Predictably, Marinette squeaked and practically tossed her armful of notebooks into the air. Face flushing pink, she bent to scoop them up while Alya rolled her eyes beside her. The soft color of her cheeks brought a flush to his own face, though he wasn't sure why, and when she finally turned to face him, composed, the crystal clear blue of her eyes pierced him as always. Up close, he noticed that her skin, like his own, was covered in unpleasant-looking, inflamed bug bites and stings. He winced in sympathy; she must have gotten caught up in that nasty business with Mantis, too.

"Sorry, Adrien...you startled me. What, uh, um. What?"

If anyone else were to say "What, uh, um, what?" to Adrien, he would probably assume they were being unfriendly, but he'd long since learned that this way of speaking was just Marinette being Marinette. "Sorry to surprise you," he chuckled. "I just noticed your wrist was bound. Sorry to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, but are you okay?"

This was another part of Marinette that perplexed him: her occasional, and seemingly unpredictable, evasiveness. She immediately dropped her notebooks again, evoking an audible sigh from Alya, and rambled, in quick succession, "Oh, it's nothing! Well, it's not nothing, but it's certainly not something! What I mean to say is I was jumping! Uh, swimming? No, uh, running. Yes, definitely running. Clumsy me!"

"Hm," responded Adrien, narrowing his eyes at her. Her smile was a little too wide, and although it was definitely cute, it was also suspicious. It wasn't so much that he minded her secrecy as that he was concerned for her, although he had to admit his friend so blatantly lying to him definitely stung a bit. Probably too reminiscent of Ladybug's refusal to share anything about herself, not to mention learn anything about him. "Running? Are you sure?"

"Erm. Yes," Marinette said, not meeting his eyes. "Sorry, Adrien, I'm pretty scatter-brained right now. I'm working on a designing contest and I--" Her phone began to buzz insistently, and her eyes widened comically. Adrien had to bite back a laugh. "Shoot, I forgot! I have to meet my parents after school today. I'll talk to you tomorrow! Bye!" 

And just like that, she was off at that special Marinette turbo speed usually reserved for mysterious and inexplicable emergencies, leaving a confused Adrien and seething Alya behind.

"Is she okay?" Adrien asked, and Alya huffed.

"Who knows?"

* * *

Adrien leapt from rooftop to rooftop, reveling in the pleasant feeling of the cool air against his face. This was the very best part of his day: the freedom, the absolute power of being Chat Noir. Already, night had fallen, but Chat Noir's keen eyes were no less effective in the dark than in the light that his wondrous lady thrived in. She patrolled far less than he did at night, and while he missed her company, he also appreciated the time to think on his own.

Nimbly, like the cat for which he was named, Adrien flipped backward off of a chimney and onto a lower adjoining roof, landing flawlessly. The moment his feet -- paws? -- connected with the sturdy material, a jolt ran up his legs and into his core, an electric shock that left him breathless even as it grounded him. He exhaled, watching the little puff of air expand in the cold night air, and then he was off again. 

He'd been worrying about Marinette since the afternoon. Most likely, she had just slipped and fallen, like she'd said. Maybe it was embarrassing, so she didn't want to say exactly how it happened. He had no reason to suspect foul play at all. Marinette's folks were the kindest people he'd ever met, and he'd half-wished he had been born to them instead of his absent mother and detached father more than once before he'd caught himself thinking it and made himself stop. Still, it was impossible to know, and his stomach flipped uncomfortably when he thought about the different ways her wrist could've gotten hurt.

He paused, ears twitching, as a lilting voice came to him, carried on the gentle breeze. He started as he identified the source of the sound: Marinette's balcony.

He hadn't even realized he was heading toward her house, and he cursed himself quietly. Apparently, he'd been so worried that he'd strayed over to check on her without even meaning to. Still...he paused, half turned away, already crouched to jump. It couldn't hurt to stop by, could it? Just sneak over, peek in the window, make sure nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It would certainly make him feel better. It felt like a bit of an invasion of privacy, but he just wanted to make sure she was alright, right?

Still warring with himself, he crept closer, finding himself crouched on a white fence that curled around toward the back of the house. Before him was Marinette's balcony, and on that balcony, Marinette herself. She was dressed in rose pink pajamas, and her hair was down and loose, gleaming where it came to rest on her shoulders. He could hear what she was singing now that he was closer, her voice imperfect but beautiful, cracking intermittently and occasionally hitting just sharp of a note but vibrant and colorful and very Marinette.

_Hold me close and hold me fast_

_The magic spell you cast_

_This is la vie en rose_

Adrien leaned forward, closing his eyes and letting the sound of her wash over him, the sound of Marinette.

_When you kiss me, heaven sighs_

_And though I close my eyes_

_I see la vie en rose_

Her hair was nice down, he thought. Raven-colored and silky. It bounced freely, cascading down her neck.

_When you press me to your heart_

_And in a world apart_

_A world where roses bloom_

Not that it wasn't nice up.

_And when you speak_

_Angels sing from above_

_Everyday words seem_

_To turn into love songs_

Her voice flowed upward, then back down again, a meandering melody that somehow left Adrien far more breathless than if he himself had been singing.

_Give your heart and soul to me_

_And life will always be_

_La vie en rose_

And then Adrien, because he was an idiot under the best of circumstances and Chat Noir tended to bring out both his wittier and stupider bits, and because Chat Noir was not especially designed to be subtle or quiet, whispered, "Wow."

By the time Marinette spun around, vivid eyes scanning the darkness, he was gone.


	3. Trust

It took two _weeks_ for Marinette's wrist to really be usable again.

Even then, it was definitely sore and tender. It withstood the weight of her books with nothing more than an unpleasant twinge, but she was increasingly nervous for the next akuma attack, as she was whenever she managed to get herself injured. Not that she had time to worry about that, anyway -- she was working harder than ever on her fashion contest. The theme was "Fashion in Horror," which Marinette found difficult, since she wasn't much of a horror buff, herself. In fact, she'd once tried to watch _The Shining_ , and had only gotten to the typewriter scene before fleeing from the room and spilling sticky soda all over Alya, much to her friend's chagrin. That being said, the reward for winning the contest was the chance to get the winning entry featured in a famous magazine, something Marinette had definitely slobbered over in the past, so she had to try.

The design was due in a week, and she'd already spent the better part of three weeks making and then trashing various failed designs. She'd largely been trying general horror concepts, but as expected, swamp monster vibes had made for an unattractive overcoat, not to mention the abysmal zombie parka (and don't even _mention_ the post-apocalyptic tank top). 

_You'd think,_ Marinette thought sourly as she ran and flipped across rooftops, which she seemed to be doing with even more frequency lately, _that fighting costumed villains three times a week would give me some ideas, but apparently not._ Currently, she was responding to a distress call from Chat, so she tried to put the issue out of her mind.

The villain turned out to be a bit less intense than usual. Apparently, some poor old woman had found out her son had a crush on Chloe and hated Chloe's father so intensely that she'd instantly become Guardian Angel. The lovely Angel was dressed in so much blinding white that Marinette couldn't realistically see herself copying the design in any capacity, even if she did admire the wings of flame the villain wore. She also assumed she wasn't allowed to set her piece on fire, so that killed _that_ idea.

"Distracted, my lady?" Chat yelled, blowing a kiss to infuriate the Angel, who screeched and aimed a fireball at him. 

"Watch out!" snapped Marinette, yanking Chat out of harm's way by the tail. "Apparently _I'm_ not the distracted one, Chaton."

"Nice save," Chat smirked.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "If you _must_ know, I've...been asked to do something a bit out of my comfort zone." She spun her yoyo to dissipate another fireball, Chat yelping as an ember landed on his suit and sizzled menacingly. 

"Anyone I need to punch, my lady?" Chat asked, and then, at Marinette's scalding glance, "Not that you couldn't do it yourself, of course."

"Nothing like that," Marinette sighed. She leapt at Guardian Angel, sidestepping a fireball at the last minute and glancing off the wall of a building. She was forced to shout at the increased distance, Chat mirroring her on the opposite side. "It's just that I'm not familiar with the subject, and it's hard to find out about on my own, I get..." Nothing too close to the truth, Marinette. She ducked, then jumped. Guardian Angel screamed. "I just get a little...nervous, that's all."

Chat seemed to consider this for a moment before using the wall to propel himself directly toward the Angel. "Sounds like you're scared to try something new. That isn't like you!"

"You don't know what I'm like," Marinette snapped, and instantly regrets it, because it obviously wasn't true. She didn't have time to apologize, though; Guardian Angel shrieked, and a ring of fire expands outward from her body, nearly incinerating her. Chat, as always, was miraculously there, and propelled them both high into the air with his baton in the nick of time. "I just mean that...it's just hard to get into, but I really want to."

"Hmm," said Chat, perching them on a window ledge. "You know, my lady, sometimes it helps to have someone with you, someone you trust." And for a minute, Marinette was shocked and pleased at such legitimate advice, and then one of those green cat eyes winked lazily, and Chat lazily smirked, "And as your most trusted companion, I would be absolutely _delighted_ to--" 

"Jump," said Marinette shortly, and they do.

* * *

As much as she was loath to admit it, her Chaton was right: maybe having someone she trusted with her would be helpful. Alya was the obvious choice, but Alya stoutly refused to watch any more horror movies with her ever since The Incident. Besides, she had come up with an...alternative. 

"I'd love to watch a movie," Adrien said sunnily, although he did look a little surprised that she'd managed to babble the question out in its completion after minimal squeaking and stammering. They stood on the steps outside the school underneath Adrien's umbrella, since the weather did not, unfortunately, match Adrien's bright disposition. "What kind of movie did you have in mind?"

"Well, if it's okay...how about a horror movie?"

Now that garnered some surprise, too. "Um...are you sure that's okay? From what Alya said, I kinda thought..."

"I won't dump soda on you," Marinette said hurriedly. "It's just, well, I need some inspiration for this contest I'm doing, and the deadline is coming up, and the theme is horror, and I haven't got a single idea, and I did a bunch of failed ones, and how was _I_ supposed to know covering an overcoat with swamp weeds would make it smell, and--"

"I get it, I get it," Adrien said. He put his hand on hers, and Marinette's heart fluttered. She took a steadying breath.

"My point," Marinette forced herself to say slowly, "is that...a friend of mine said that if I'm scared, maybe being with someone I trust will help, and, well." She could _feel_ the heat coming off her face and hoped it wasn't as red as it felt. "I trust you."

Adrien narrowed his eyes for a moment as though scrutinizing her, and Marinette's heart stopped. Oh god. Oh god oh god. "This was clearly a mistake, I'm so sorry, I understand that trusting you is offensive given that we don't even talk all that much and I should never speak to anyone ever again and in fact I would like to--" 

"Hey, whoa, Marinette." The sound of her name made her stuttering cease, along with the firing of any neurons at all, probably. Adrien was smiling, although his brow was still furrowed. "I'm honored, Marinette. It's a date."


	4. Carrie

Adrien Agreste was experiencing a whole new level of guilt.

He'd started out with the best intentions. After school, which he could hardly focus on due to his excitement, he had sat down across from his father, cleared his throat, and asked, politely and clearly, if he could go to watch a movie at his classmates's house. He explained that it wasn't for fun but rather to help his friend with a fashion-related project. Anticipating his father's displeasure, he added that he would be credited for helping with the design (probably true), which would be helpful to his career, and that it was less that he was friends with the designer than that he had finally taken an interest in networking for his future career gains (definitely not true). It was going quite well, actually; his father hadn't angrily interrupted, and the eyes behind his square spectacles were stern, but not enraged. He seemed to consider, thoughtful, and then inquired as to the name of the designer.

"Marinette," Adrien replied without thinking.

His father shifted subtly, moving his hands where they were clasped in front of him ever so slightly, and Adrien instantly knew something was wrong. Instinctively, he started to curl in on himself.

"Dupain-Cheng? The girl from the bakery?"

"Yes," said Adrien. Of course his father knew exactly what each of his classmates' families did. It was like him.

His father's eyes went from ice to steel. "Absolutely not," he said.

"But -- "

"Silence," his father snarled. There was something feral in the lines of his face. "That _girl_ has been a distraction in the past, and she is a distraction now. You will return to your room, you will not emerge until tomorrow morning, and you will think long and hard about with whom you choose to associate." When Adrien opened his mouth to protest, his father continued, "And because you see fit to argue with me, you will hand over your cell phone as well." 

Silently fuming, Adrien did so, then stomped to his room as loudly as possible. Did it make him feel like a petulant child? Certainly. Did he very much hope his stomping would knock over something valuable of his father's? Also yes.

He flopped down on his bed, thinking in dismay about how Marinette would feel when he didn't show up. He knew it had been hard for her to ask, and he kicked himself for opening his stupid mouth and losing his phone, too. He seriously considered the merits of messenger pigeons but was forced to conclude that unless Hawkmoth decided to akumatize that weird pigeon guy again, he had no way of even finding one.

He rolled over, frustrated, and ignored some quip from Plagg about his "sulking." It was strange, wasn't it? He'd heard his father disparage his friends before, but it had never been like this. There was something more to this, although he wasn't sure what it was. It seemed like his father really loathed the mention of Marinette, like there was something personal between them, but that didn't make any sense, did it? Marinette was the sweetest person he knew, and he couldn't imagine her doing anything to upset his father so.

Adrien sighed and leaned back. He was in for a long, long night.

* * *

By the time Adrien's father fell asleep, he had missed movie night by about five hours. Frustrated, he transformed into Chat Noir and snuck out the window for a night of morose rooftop-jumping. He wandered around a district he rarely visited for a while and only realized that he was still distracted by the thought of Marinette when he almost fell off a rooftop entirely on accident.

That settled it, then. Gritting his teeth, Adrien leapt in the direction of Marinette's house. It wouldn't hurt to check on her, make sure she's okay, even if there's nothing he can do as "Adrien" until tomorrow. 

As he approached, there was that voice again, and he let it draw him to her.

_"Give your heart and soul to me..."_

What if she hated him now? She'd met his father, so surely she'd understand, but still. What if she'd spent the whole night crying? 

_"When you kiss me, heaven sighs..."_

Maybe he shouldn't even tell her about his father. Surely it would hurt her feelings to know his father seemed to hate her for no reason.

_"This is la vie en rose..."_

She'd be more hurt thinking Adrien was the one who didn't want to see her, though. Besides that...maybe he should let himself open up to her, talk to her about the problems with his dad. She seems like an excellent listener, and he's come close to doing it before.

"Marinette?"

Marinette jumped, squeaking in terror, and immediately assumed a surprisingly sturdy-looking defense pose. She knocked over a stray can of paint that rested on the balcony by her feet. She relaxed when she saw it was him, although she looked annoyed.

"Chat Noir? What are you doing here? This is my home?"

She didn't sound overly sure. "I heard a lovely voice and was drawn here," he said with the cheesiest possible grin.

Marinette rolled her eyes in a way he found strangely cute. "Why are you _still_ here, then?"

"My Kitty Senses were tingling," Adrien teased. "I thought I'd found myself a damsel in distress. But if you're feeling just fine...?" He began to back toward the edge of the roof.

"Uh. Wait," she said hastily. She bit her lip, and there was a pang deep in his chest. "I, uh, I guess I am feeling a little down. I asked a friend if they would come and watch a movie with me, and they said yes, and I was really excited, but...they didn't show." Ugh. Adrien knew. "I'm sure they just got busy, but..."

"He definitely just got busy," Adrien assured her quickly. "I'm sure of it. No one would be so stupid as to just ditch you. But if you tell me who he is, I can go check...?"

Marinette's eyes flashed. "He?"

Too late, Adrien realized she had not specified the gender of the person, and laughed nervously. "Just an assumption. Darn, guess I still have to train myself out of heteronormativity, eh?"

Marinette's expression indicated she was more than a little dubious of his sanity. "...right. Well. I'm sure you're right but...I really like this person, and it's hard not to be worried and disappointed."

Something alive fluttered in Adrien's chest, something he normally only felt around his lady. It was a bizarre sensation, and he shoved it down. "I'm sure _they_ like you too. You're very likable."

Marinette snorted, then sniffled. She still looked down, and Adrien's heart ached.

"Well, I know I'm probably not as handsome as your missing friend, but I'd be more than happy to watch a movie with you," he purred before he knew what he was saying.

Marinette looked understandably skeptical. "Don't you have, like, crime-fighting to do or something?"

"Nah, that's all Ladybug's thing," he smirked.

Marinette's expression turned downright dangerous. "Oh _really?"_

"Kidding, kidding," he said. "Seriously, though, I have some free time. If there's a particular reason you need to watch this movie..." Internally, he winced. He had no knowledge of this endeavor as Chat, he reminded himself. "Or...you know, if you really wanted to watch it with a friend. I'm here."

Marinette evaluated him. Her eyes were clear as ice and just as blue as they roved over him. "And are you a friend, Chat Noir?"

He almost said something snarky or sarcastic or even playful back, but swallowed it down. "Yeah, Marinette, I am."

Marinette studied him for a moment more before turning around and waltzing right back into her room. "Horror movie. Your choice," she said shortly.

_Yes!_

"Carrie," he grinned. "The _original,_ obviously." His stomach rumbled loudly, and, embarrassed, he realized that he still hadn't eaten. That was his father's intention, after all, sending him to bed directly after school. As he'd once said, hunger helps lessons sink in harder.

"You really are just a stray cat, aren't you?" huffed Marinette. "Stay there."

  
"But -- "

_"Stay."_

Adrien stayed. Marinette disappeared down the trapdoor, and when she reappeared, she was carrying a tray of baked goods, little tarts and savory and sweet breads and the smell, oh, the _smell._ His mouth began to water, and he knew his eyes were huge.

"Sit," commanded Marinette. She pulled up a streaming service and selected the proper movie, then sat down next to him on the floor, setting the tray next to them. Adrien couldn't help but wonder at this side of her. Normally he only saw her nervous and stammering and anxious, but this confident, playful, relaxed Marinette...it was nice. She made a motion with her hands that he didn't understand, and she rolled her eyes. "This is a proper movie night. I'm going to sit against you, and you're going to eat like a good little kitty. Okay?"

"Okay," he practically squeaked. 

She leaned her small body against him, and a comfortable warmth settled into his chest. "This movie had better be good," she muttered.

Adrien cackled as evilly as he could, grabbing the first of what he was sure would be many tarts.

"Oh, it won't be."


	5. Carrie 2: Electric Boogaloo

Marinette was having a hell of a night.

Adrien no-showed, which nearly caused her to have an aneurysm, and then Chat Noir show-showed, which led to the metaphorical aneurysm dissecting. So here she was, trying to focus on Carrie's incredibly insane mother but mostly just spinning in in a mental binary rotation between despair over Adrien and confused gratitude and happiness over Chat. 

She leaned further into Chat subconsciously, grinding her teeth until her jaw ached. "Chat Noir, is her mom gonna be this crazy the entire movie?"

"That's kind of the point," Chat snickered. 

Marinette sighed, relaxing her jaw reluctantly. It was nice, somehow, to have that classic Chat mischievousness when she wasn't expected to rebuke and rebuff him. She loved being Ladybug, but sometimes the banter was so exhausting when she was also trying to fight some fifty-foot-tall bug person. Instead, she laughed too.

"I thought the point was all the bullying?"

"Mm, all truer horror than anything Carrie herself could pull out." Chat's words were then accentuated by a _crunch_ as he popped another pastry into his mouth. "Mm."

On screen, the bucket fell, coating Carrie in pig's blood and hitting her unfortunate date on the head. 

"That's horrible! Poor Carrie," sighed Marinette. 

"Imagine what type of an akumatized villain Carrie would make," Chat joked, and Marinette shuddered.

"Ugh, a villain who was _already_ psychic and probably _blood_ -themed? Ugh, I definitely wouldn't want to deal with that. I'd be tempted to skip."

"Well, luckily, you wouldn't be the one to deal with it," Chat smirked, and Marinette swore her lungs stopped working momentarily.

"Uh, yeah, right! Still, I wouldn't envy you."

"Or Ladybug," said Chat.

"Right. Or Ladybug."

There was a slightly awkward silence as Carrie fled the gym, sobbing, her date prone on the floor. Marinette refused to look at Chat, though she felt his green, slitted eyes on her.

"Watch the movie, Chaton."

She could've sworn Chat made a strangled noise of some sort. Weirdo. She snuggled in and yawned. Carrie's murderous gaze turned back to the gym. 

* * *

School the next day was an affair Marinette would rather not have to face.

Predictably, Adrien practically sprinted up to her the second her foot touched the bottom step of the stairs. "Marinette!"

"Hey," she responded. Despite the fact that last night had turned into a pretty great movie night, she felt hot tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and cursed her own emotionalism. "Um, yeah, so, um, last night, it's fine, um."

"Um," Adrien repeated dumbly, seemingly without realizing it. His eyes were huge.

"Okay, well," said Marinette quickly, starting to step around him.

"Wait!" Adrien yelped, seeming to snap out of it. His hand was burning hot where it grabbed her arm, immediately slackening in panic when she thoughtlessly recoiled. "Marinette, I'm so, _so_ sorry. My, uh..." He seemed to war with himself for a moment, and then sighed heavily. "My father didn't allow me out. I understand if you can't forgive me. I promise, I would've been there if I could, and I feel awful, which...which I should, and I..."

Marinette's insides turned to mush, and now she was the one clutching at his arm. "Adrien, have you ever watched Carrie?"

He smiled and nodded.

They spent the lunch hour that day poring over potential fashion designs inspired by the movie, which, to Marinette's surprise, Adrien seemed to know in and out. 

"So the most obvious idea would be a design based off of the blood-covered prom dress, right?" Marinette mused.

"Not a bad idea," chuckled Adrien, "especially as that part _really_ got to you. It's an emotional scene!"

Marinette pondered that for a second, unsure of why it seemed so strange. She must be tired, because she was feeling suspicious suddenly. Then again, she was up pretty late watching the movie.

"Prom dresses aren't really a realistic idea for this unless I'm going for a Halloween costume or something, though," she said finally, aware of Adrien's inquisitive eyes. "What about something similar, but more...wearable?"

"It's not just the dress, right? Wasn't the bloody hair pretty gnarly?" Adrien said thoughtfully, and Marinette grinned.

* * *

Designing the headpiece would take pretty close to the remaining time Marinette had. She was so immersed in her sewing that night that she actually managed to be a little startled when there came a rap at her window.

"Come in, Chat," she yelled, and the moment later, the familiar scent of clean leather and some spicy _something_ that was distinctly her Chaton drifted into her room. "Is there a sequel to Carrie I should know about or something?"

"I would never go without checking up on a previous damsel in distress," purred Chat, earning a positively venomous glare from Marinette. "So, was I right about your friend?"

"Yeah, his dad's the worst," Marinette commented offhandedly, sighing and kicking back in her chair.

Chat laughed, although it sounded tight. Confused, Marinette swiveled her chair to look at him and found him looking as tense as he sounded. "Yeah, uh, well. I'm not surprised. I was sure no friend could stand to bail on someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

Chat, ever-suave Chat, grew slightly red. "That's what I said."

A pause ensued, in which Marinette could have sworn Chat's kitty ears flattened against his head.

"Well. I'm working on a headpiece. What do you think?" Marinette held it up, letting the light catch the red gems that dangled down.

Chat hummed, no doubt grateful at his rare moment of gracelessness being alleviated. "Beautiful. Like little drops of blood, isn't it?"

"You can tell?" Marinette was delighted. "Come on, put it on, I need to see it on someone."

"Hmm, I'm not sure it'll go with my--hey!"

Ignoring his protests, as usual, Marinette stuck the headpiece on his head, adjusting it around his ears. The jewels hung down like a curtain in the back and tapered up from the sides to the front. Of course, it looked extremely silly with his cat ears and black mask, but she couldn't help but stare at the way his big green eyes reflected the light that refracted from the gems. There was something beautiful about them, she thought. Adrien's eyes were soft, but Chat's were sharp, piercing. Still, she couldn't help but be reminded of Adrien, somehow, when his eyes met hers. 

"You look just beautiful," she said, and it didn't come out as teasingly as she'd meant it to.

"You too," muttered Chat. He removed the headpiece a bit jerkily. "I've, uh. I've got some superhero stuff to do, you know. Ladybug's lazy night."

" _Excuse_ \--"

"You'll win your competition for sure," Chat said hurriedly. "Night, Lady Marinette!"

He backflipped, completely unnecessarily, out of the room, leaving Marinette with her mouth hanging open, feeling strangely as though she was forgetting something, missing something important.


End file.
